Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Lagoon (part 2 of 4)


STOP! Before you read part #2, make sure you've read part #1. It will make much more sense! Warning: do not read this section on a queasy stomach. Also, this is my favorite of the four parts, but still not the most 'surprising'! Isn't the suspense just getting to you???? Enjoy.... Jennie


Part #2


“I think I’m going to throw up!” She gagged out between fingers covering her mouth. About two seconds later, she could have dropped the “I think” part. Fortunately, she caught the majority in her hand, but not before a few drops of proof fell on the seat. I hoped no one was correctly guessing that they’d get cart number 16 next. I grabbed her available hand and yanked her away from the scene of the crime. We mingled in with the rest of the victims and made our way safely through the exit path and out into open air.


I ran to the nearest authority figure to ask for directions to the bathroom. About ten yards in front of me was a row of game booths. The one closest happened to be “Whac-a-Mole”. The booth lodged three nine-patch holes side by side, waiting for gullible passerbys to drop a dollar for the opportunity to hit some ill-meaning moles who popped up more irregularly than popcorn kernels. There was an overly enthusiastic teenager operating the booth. He saw me approaching and mistook my eager gait for an keen desire to throw away money.


“How about a game of Whac-A-Mole?” he shouted into his make-shift microphone.


“Where is the bathroom?” I shouted at him. Viki’s stomach was not done punishing my manipulation. We needed sanctuary in the form of a backless toilet.


Either he hadn’t heard my plea, or he was more interested in refereeing a silly game, because he shouted out to the park, “Step right up! We have one player! Come try your hand at ‘Whac-A-Mole’. Only one dollar a game!”


“PLEASE!” I was screaming at him now. “I NEED to know where the nearest bathroom is!” I was whacking the game top with enough force the scare any moles back in their holes, should any rebellious rodents dare show their annoying plastic faces. I think Enthusiastic Teenager was scared for the safety of his game, but still he refused me passageway to the restroom. By this time Viki had made it to the booth and was tugging at my shirt, afraid to open her mouth for fear of what might come hurling out. I looked up, begging with my eyes for aide.


What happened next will stay with me until my deathbed, and probably well into the next life. If I grow old and get Alzheimer’s and forget my own children’s names, I will still remember the stark details of the next ten seconds of infamy that sunny day in Lagoon. It felt like the world was suddenly turning in half speed. Everything occurred in slow motion, but it still wasn’t slow enough for me to stop it.


I was facing Enthusiastic Teenager head on, willing him to point me in the right direction. He was a typical employee of a local amusement park, too tall for his body. His standard Lagoon-issue striped shirt was short on him, but practically fell off his shoulders. His hair was full of unruly brown curls and his face was blotted with acne. His red bow tie was crooked and partially undone. But, in his booth, he was king of his dominion. His fist-sized microphone was a scepter that bestowed power he would never find in the halls of High School. He was determined to get people to play his game, as if that was the entire purpose of life and he was our guide.


Viki was facing me, on my right side, impatiently pulling at the sleeve of my white cotton shirt with green rims. Enthusiastic Teenager could see Viki’s side profile perfectly as he continually tried to lure people to the game.

And then, Viki could wait no longer. Out came everything she had digested for the past 24 hours at least. Out it came, and found a home all over me. She was just a few inches shorter than me, so it perfectly drenched me from the tops of my shoulders to my shoes.


Enthusiastic Teenager still had his fingers on his precious microphone and had just started over on his sales pitch.


“How about a game of “Whac-A-WOOOOAH!!!” He screamed into the speaker. I finally had his undivided attention. Unfortunately, thanks to his announcement into the microphone and Viki’s display of undigestibles, I also had the attention of every person within a 50 foot radius.


“Looks like YOU need a bathroom!” Enthusiastic Teenager was still holding the button that relayed his voice for all to hear, but at least it was in response to our situation.


I didn’t even nod. I didn’t speak at all. I couldn’t move. I just wanted to disappear, to blink my eyes, which were the only part of me not covered in stinking puke, and magically vanish. I’d willingly join those pesky brown moles in their protective holes now. Bring on the whacking.


When he finally pointed us towards the bathrooms, I waited two more seconds and then I started to move. I didn’t bother to thank him. I just moved away, letting the sick and whatever pride I had grown in thirteen summer seasons on earth fall off me. Someone was speaking, but I couldn’t process the words.


“so, so, sorry.... didn’t mean..... please..... sorry...... Jennie...... so, so.” Viki was following me, apologizing her apparently-working-just-fine-now mouth off. I couldn’t respond to her. I made a beeline for the bathroom hoping to get out of my clothes before I added to them with my own vomit.

3 comments:

VikiViki said...

That poor little sister of yours..sounds traumatic for you both! lol..I am already dreading installment 3 of this episode of infamy...which will go down with me and my alzheimer's! =)

Diana said...

that is just NASTY! I WILL NOT let Matt read this, he doesn't do well with the puke in our house whether it be child or dog. That's my department, I let him handle poop! ARen't I nice?! :)

Jennifer said...

Ssaaaddd and yes, I am laughing while I type this.

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